


Team Tactics

by VelkynKarma



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura (Voltron)-centric, Allura is the equivalent of seven or eight here, Gen, Pre-Series, probably the closest to fluff it's possible for me to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 09:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17805065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelkynKarma/pseuds/VelkynKarma
Summary: Allura's going to grow up to be the most amazing paladin ever, and to do that, she has to be a great military commander. But tactics are more difficult than she realizes. Especially when she's trying to figure them out under the supervision of the fabled Black Paladin, Zarkon.





	Team Tactics

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea in mind since back on season 2. The other night I just felt like writing it out. So uh...here you go, I guess!

Allura pokes her head into the War Council room and glances around carefully. Her stealthiness is wasted; the room is empty. Still, that’s exactly what she’d hoped to see, and she gleefully darts into the room and shuts the door carefully behind her.  
  
Technically, she’s not supposed to be in here. Father had told her not to play in the War Council room, because it was for the adults to do their work. When she was older, father promised he’d let her see some of those councils, as she prepared to one day take the throne. But for now, she isn’t permitted to those meetings, or the room they take place in.  
  
But there’s no one here at the moment to tell her no. She’s given her tutors the slip again, and they’ll never find her. Coran could, maybe; he knows all her favorite hiding places and the best spots to play. But he’s busy helping father today with that Helfarish meeting. And mother is busy with diplomatic petitions. She should be free to play for several vargas with no interruptions.  
  
Her tutors will almost certainly lecture her for it later, of course. And they’ll probably tell on her to father. But father will probably just laugh, and say she’s headstrong—a good thing for a warrior princess.  
  
Allura smiles to herself. A warrior princess. She’s going to be the _best_ one ever. She’s already very good at combat trials, for her age, which are some of her favorite lessons. She can’t wait until she’s big enough to use an Altean broadsword, just like her father.  
  
And just like her father, when she grows up, she’s going to be a _paladin._ Maybe she can even fly the Red Lion! Father says the Lions choose their paladins, but she is _certain_ Red will like her. She’s already flown in it a lot with her father, when he takes her for rides.  
  
Being a paladin is precisely why she’d decided to sneak into the War Council room today. This room has the best holotech for the tactics-scenarios war games, which makes sense, because it’s the _War Council_ room after all. She could bring up the games anywhere else in the Castle of Lions, but the images are the sharpest and clearest, and the units the most responsive, in this room.  
  
And if she’s going to train to get better at being an incredible warrior princess, she needs to use the best technology available to practice, of course. Plus, playing the games in this room feels _important._ Like she’s deciding battles just like the Voltron paladins really do.  
  
She settles at the great big table in the center of the room, in the seat just next to her father’s customary one, and opens up the menu to start the tactics-scenario games. A field of stars appears over the center of the table, and a smaller holographic screen pops up just in front of her for her to enter commands.  
  
She flicks through the screens, wondering which scenario to pick. She’s never actually played, yet, but she’s seen father and the other paladins playing sometimes when training. Or sometimes they’ll plug in actual statistics and troop movements when discussing problems in the world they’re really going to fight against. She knows it’s possible, and she wants to try it.  
  
 _When you’re fighting the Gladiator, you start at the lowest level and work up,_ Allura finally remembers. _Even if it’s easy and boring. So you don’t hurt yourself._ This is just a holographic game, and it can’t really hurt her, but she should probably do the same. She brings up the first level with the lowest difficulty setting.  
  
Immediately, holographic ships appear in the field of stars above her. Hers are indicated in blue, in various sizes, while the enemy ships are red. She has far more ships than the enemy does, so winning is very easy. She shoves all of her ships at the enemy ones, using the screen in front of her as a command board, and her ships easy dismantle the enemy formation. She loses some, but that’s okay—they’re only holograms, after all. She wins in ten doboshes. Easy!  
  
She tries the next level. This time there are more enemy ships, and a new holographic planet to go around. But like before, it’s still easy to shove all of her ships at her opponents, and wipe all of them out. She loses a few more ships this time, but when the screen flashes VICTORY, she grins. Tactics are _easy.  
  
_ She plays four more levels. Each one introduces new environmental factors, different numbers of ships on her side and the enemy side, and different objectives. Sometimes it’s to wipe out all the ships. Sometimes it’s to capture a base. Each time she commands an Altean fleet, and it’s easy to push superior Altean numbers and technology at the opponents and wipe them out. The levels get harder as she goes, and she loses more and more ships, but she’s still smashing through the enemy forces and _winning._ That’s the important thing, isn’t it?  
  
The door clicks open in the middle of her next level, and Allura jumps, squeaking in surprise and ducking a little to try and hide behind some of the holograms. Not that it helps. They _are_ see-through. But it’s not one of her angry tutors that enters to lecture her. Instead, it’s Emperor Zarkon—the Black Paladin of Voltron.  
  
That doesn’t make Allura feel any better. She knows Zarkon, because she knows all the paladins. But while Trigel always teaches her things and Blaytz and Gyrgan are fun to play with, Zarkon is a little... _scary._ He’s really tall, taller even than Gyrgan, and always wearing sharp armor, and his voice is deep and sometimes a little frightening when he yells. And he’s strong, too—strong enough to be the paladin of the Black Lion, which is maybe the prettiest of the Lions, even if the Red Lion is the _best_ one. And strict too, about rules. He doesn’t think nobles should talk to servants, which Allura thinks is dumb. Coran is a servant but he’s still the best, and really fun to play with. Zarkon doesn’t play at _all.  
  
_ But father says it’s hard to pilot the Black Lion without being a very good leader. And he must be a good military commander, because even _father_ takes orders from Zarkon when they’re paladins, and father doesn’t have to take orders from _anyone._ And Zarkon has saved father’s life a lot, before she was born and after it too. And she knows he helps save thousands of lives every day as a part of Voltron. So he’s a good guy, Allura is sure.  
  
But that doesn’t stop her from being in awe of and just a _little_ bit scared of him.  
  
Zarkon glances around the room as he steps in, trailed by three attendants who follow at a silent and respectful distance. But he stops short when he spots Allura.  
  
“Princess Allura,” Zarkon greets her after a moment, with a curt but acknowledging nod.  
  
Allura stares for a moment, but then hastily scrambles off of her chair to do a customary Altean curtsey, like her tutors taught her. “Hello, Emperor Zarkon.”  
  
He acknowledges her greeting with another nod, before saying, “What exactly are you doing here? I know Alfor doesn’t permit you to play in this room.”  
  
Allura feels sheepish, but hastily tries to make herself look serious and regal and important, like mother does. “I’m training to be a better warrior,” she says.  
  
Which is true, of course. But also, her diplomacy tutor and father both taught her to always try to find common ground with people you’re talking with, and Galra really like being warriors. Maybe even more than Alteans. Zarkon even gave her a fierce warrior helmet when she was just a baby. So maybe he would like that, and not get mad at her for being here.  
  
It does seem to satisfy Zarkon, at least. He snorts at that, and regards the game in progress, hastily paused by Allura when the door opened. “I see.” His eyes sweep the room again. “And where is Alfor? And the rest of the paladins. We are supposed to be meeting this quintent.”  
  
“Um. Coran said he was helping father with a meeting today with some Helfarish people.”  
  
Zarkon mutters something under his breath. Allura can hear enough of the cadance to recognize it as Galran, although she doesn’t speak it yet. “The Zethack trade routes again, I take it. Helfarish would like to tax travelers for every scrap they’re worth. Voltron may have to deal with them soon.”  
  
Allura merely shrugs. She knows they’re some kind of a problem, and father often gets exasperated whenever he complains about the meetings to mother or Coran. But she doesn’t really understand the details yet.  
  
Zarkon shakes his head, but after a moment he makes his way to the far end of the table, trailed by his attendants. He settles in the far chair, as his servants busy themselves taking his cloak and presenting him with a holopad. Another hurries out of the room, probably to find him something to drink or eat while he waits.  
  
“Carry on, then,” he says absently, waving one enormous clawed hand dismissively in her direction. “The meeting will probably be some time...and it seems I am early. But I am not responsible if your father catches you in here.”  
  
Once sitting, Zarkon peruses the holopad. Allura can see a few planets on the screens, one of which she recognizes as Kir’tir’inil. There had been some kind of dispute going on there recently, she remembers father mentioning. Voltron was going to have to deal with it soon, after figuring out how to handle it. That was probably what the meeting was about today, so Zarkon must be reading over everything.  
  
Either way, he seems to be ignoring her completely. And Zarkon might be a little scary, but Allura feels like if he wanted her to leave, he’d definitely say so. So he must be okay with her continuing to practice. Cautiously optimistic, she climbs back into her chair and unpauses the game. Zarkon doesn’t even look up from his holopad despite the game’s laser noises, explosions, and notification beeps, so Allura figures it really doesn’t bother him. Emboldened, she settles in to play.  
  
She beats that level, and the one after that, but both of them are a lot harder. By the end of the next level, she wins, but she only has three ships left. But she hasn’t lost yet, so she enthusiastically brings up the next tactics-scenario, titled the Orthank Fields.  
  
This battle sphere is the most complicated one yet. There’s a large asteroid belt, a couple planets with strong gravitational fields, and a _lot_ of enemy ships. Allura’s given fleet doesn’t have nearly so many.  
  
She’s not sure how she’s supposed to win it, but she tries gamely anyway, shoving all of her ships forward to attack. Many of them are destroyed in the asteroid belt, and others flounder in the strong gravitational fields. Her forces are split up and overrun by the enemy ships. For the first time since she’d started playing, the red FAILURE indicator lights up across the screen.  
  
She scowls. “No fair! That’s a stupid map.”  
  
But she tries it again anyway, reloading it to start again. She shoves all her forces forward, but once again, they somehow get split up and flounder in the environment. The enemy ships don’t have that problem at all, and effortlessly duck and weave through the asteroid belt and avoid the planets, to sweep in from behind and wipe out her stupid stuck ships.  
  
A third attempt ends much the same. And a fourth. And a fifth.  
  
“Stupid ships! Just _win_ already!” Allura snaps in frustration, pushing them forward. “Go _faster._ Stop being bad at this!”  
  
But the ships don’t listen, and they lose again. Allura scowls at the map as she reloads it, and mutters, “These stupid ships must have a glitch. Maybe the game crystals are malfunctioning. _No!”_ she yelps a moment later, as an Alpha-Galax transport ship flounders once again. “No, no, I didn’t _say_ get stuck in the gravity force! Go _faster!_ Just get _through_ it like the fighters!”  
  
It doesn’t get through like the fighters. It’s destroyed, and once again, FAILURE flashes across the screen. Allura slams her hands on the table in frustration. “Stupid _ships!_ ”  
  
“Yelling at it will not change anything, Princess.”  
  
Allura looks up in surprise. Zarkon is alone now—his attendants have left him, now that he has a drink and his dataset for the meeting. The holopad is still clutched in one enormous clawed hand, but Zarkon isn’t looking at its screens. Instead, he stares through the field of holographic stars of the _Orthank Fields_ map to meet her eyes.  
  
Allura flushes with embarrassment. She’d forgotten he was even there. But she’s also still angry, so she counters hotly, “They won’t do what I tell them! They’re supposed to beat this other fleet and they _won’t."  
  
_ “Or perhaps you are not yet strong enough a warrior for this particular challenge,” Zarkon says. There’s no expression in his face, but his yellow eyes are a little scary. It feels like he’s glaring, even when Allura knows by now that’s just how he is.  
  
It also feels like he’s _mocking_ her, and she doesn’t like that. “I’m not _weak,”_ she says. He doesn’t say anything, and she adds insistently, “I’m not! I’m a princess of Altea! And Altea is _strong._ And so am I.”  
  
She turns back to her game, restarting it yet again. She’s _sure_ Zarkon is watching her and thinking about how dumb she must be if she can’t figure out how to beat this yet. Not a strong enough warrior...how rude! She’s _plenty_ strong. And she’s going to be even _stronger,_ if these stupid ships would just listen to what she says and do things like she wants! What does Zarkon know?  
  
But when she glances sneakily to the side to see if he’s making fun of her as she plays, she realizes he’s not watching her game at all. His eyes are on his notes again, and as she watches he flicks to a new page on his holopad.  
  
Well, maybe he’s not watching. But it still _feels_ like he is. And _judging_ her, too. Zarkon’s supposed to be a great tactician. The best ever. That’s what father said, and that’s why he was the black paladin. He probably thinks this is _easy,_ and she’s a silly little girl for having so much trouble with it.  
  
The thought that Zarkon is just _waiting_ for her to screw up so he can laugh is so preoccupying that she loses again when her units once again get stuck in the gravity fields. “Stupid _ships!”_ she yells, and then glares across the table through the star field at him. “You think I’m too stupid to do this, don’t you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You _do._ I bet you’re laughing at me.”  
  
“I’m not,” Zarkon says, although there’s just a trace of an irritable growl in his voice that time.  
  
“If you’re so good, then _you_ do it.”  
  
“No,” Zarkon says curtly. “I do not fight others’ battles for them that they cannot complete themselves.”  
  
That makes Allura even angrier than before. “I _order_ you to complete it for me, as the Princess of Altea,” Allura counters, raising up into a dignified pose, like her tutors had taught.  
  
“I am an Emperor,” Zarkon responds, meeting her eyes across the table. “I outrank you.”  
  
Allura huffs in frustration, but Zarkon _is_ right. Even father takes orders from Zarkon, and father is a king, and a king is higher ranked than a princess.  
  
“ _Fine,”_ she snaps, and restarts the game again.  
  
She loses again. And another time. And _another_ time. By now, she wishes the holographic ships were real toys, so she could throw them across the room to vent her frustration. Mother would tell her to take a break and come back later, and it would be clearer, but Allura just wants to _win_ now. Just to prove to stupid Zarkon that she _can.  
  
_ But no matter how forcefully she shoves her pieces at the enemy fleet, they never seem to overcome the enemy and seize victory for her. And after the now dreaded FAILURE screen flashes red in front of her for the umpteenth time, she can feel angry, frustrated tears starting to spill over her lashes and down her cheeks.  
  
“I’m not _weak,”_ she insists, sniffling slightly, and wiping her face with her dress sleeve. Her tutors would be furious with her for that, but she doesn’t care.  
  
But when she reloads the map again, and loses yet again, the last of her anger finally drains out of her, and she’s left with tired disappointment. “What am I doing _wrong?”_ she asks miserably.  
  
“Are you asking for advice, Princess?”  
  
Allura’s head jerks up in surprise. Zarkon still hasn’t moved at all, but now he’s watching her game again, instead of the notes on his holopad. After a moment, his eyes flick away from the red FAILURE indicator to her.  
  
“No,” she snaps immediately, remembering how she’s angry with him. “I’m not _weak.”  
  
_ “I didn’t say you were. I asked if you were requesting advice.”  
  
“It’s the same thing!”  
  
“I think you misunderstand strength, Princess Allura,” Zarkon says, raising one odd eyebrow ridge. She can barely see it under his funny Galran crown. “Haven’t you ever watched your father in his duties as king?”  
  
“Of course I have!”  
  
“Then you know that one man alone does not rule,” Zarkon says. “No matter how skilled and how strong, a single ruler cannot know or do _everything._ A clever king—or queen—makes use of the knowledge and skills his or her vassals and advisors provide, to properly serve their people.”  
  
Allura considers this. It is true—father is very smart and very strong, but he doesn’t do everything on the planet. Not even everything in the Castle of Lions. He listens to his advisors when they talk about food or taxes or building things, and he decides what to do about it, but he listens to other people who know about it better first.  
  
But Zarkon is still confusing. “You said you wouldn’t help me!”  
  
“I said I would not complete this task _for_ you,” Zarkon corrects. “I did not say I wouldn’t help.”  
  
Allura considers this and concedes grudgingly that is in fact exactly what he’d said. “Father says you’re very good with battles,” she says after a moment.  
  
“It is something I know well, yes,” Zarkon agrees.  
  
Allura bites her lip a moment, and then says slowly, “Alright, then. Will you tell me what I’m doing wrong?”  
  
Zarkon seems to smile, just slightly. But Allura doesn’t think he’s laughing at her. He seems amused, but not like he’s making fun of her now. Though it’s hard to say. Zarkon doesn’t smile a lot. It’s one of those things that Allura always found a little scary about him.  
  
“You ask more of your men than they can give,” Zarkon says, nodding to the combat sphere, as Allura restarts the game.  
  
Allura frowns at that. “They’re not even real. It’s just holograms.”  
  
“Yes, but remember, these tactics scenarios are to train you to command real armies, and those will have real soldiers,” Zarkon says. “And soldiers, like kings, cannot do everything.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Allura says, frowning at her blue-highlighted ships in confusion.  
  
Zarkon considers. “You know of Voltron, of course.”  
  
Allura nods, a little insulted by the question but trying her best to be polite. Who didn’t know about Voltron? Her father’s ships were incredible.  
  
“You know all about the Red Lion best, I imagine?”  
  
“It’s _fast,”_ Allura gushes excitedly, finally able to answer something, and relieved and delighted to know so much about it. “Father takes me flying in it sometimes. It’s faster than every other ship Altea has!”

  
“That’s true,” Zarkon says. “Now imagine if, in battle as paladins, I ordered your father to block a strike from an ion cannon.”

  
Allura stares at him, appalled. “The Red Lion should _dodge_ it,” she says, scandalized. “The Red Lion doesn’t _block_ things. It doesn’t have a shield like the Green Lion does. And It’s not all made of armor like the Yellow Lion.”

  
“But I order it to block anyway,” Zarkon says. “What happens?”

  
“Um…” Allura bites her lip. “Father would do what you say. He says it’s important to listen to the military commander in combat, and that’s you. But the Red Lion would get hurt, I think. A lot. Father says it’s made to dodge and strike, not shield.”

  
“Very good,” Zarkon says, nodding. “And what if I ordered Gyrgan to rush ahead and flank an enemy ship?”

  
“The Yellow Lion is _slow,”_ Allura says, scowling at Zarkon. Is he dense? He’s supposed to be the head of Voltron! “That should be father’s job in the _Red_ Lion!”

  
Zarkon stares her down evenly. “You’re right,” he agrees. “Each paladin of Voltron, each Lion, has its own strengths and weaknesses. As the commanding officer of that combat unit, _my_ job is to know what each one of those strengths and weaknesses are. To use those strengths to our advantage, and to make sure those weaknesses are covered.”  
  
He gestures to the battle sphere. “And that is _your_ job as the commander of _this_ fleet. You need to know how each of your pieces work, what their strengths are, and what their weaknesses are. If you don’t, they can’t work as a team, and you will be putting some in dangerous positions they aren’t meant to handle. But there might be other soldiers that _can_ do that job.”  
  
Allura mulls that over as she stares at the combat sphere, thoughtful. She hadn’t really thought about all the ships like that before, in the other levels. She’d just pushed her fleet at the enemy’s, and she had more ships, so she always won.  
  
But now that she examines the game more closely...Zarkon is right. The big Alpha-Galax transports are like the Yellow Lion—they’re big, and strong, but they’re slow. But she kept trying to push them through the gravitational fields quickly, and they couldn’t do that...just like Gyrgan can’t rush ahead and do a job that’s meant for father. Her fighter ships are all small and quick enough to get ahead, and dive through the asteroid fields. But they’re too small to do any real damage, and the enemy ships are too strong. They get wiped out too quickly. Her specialty ships with extra abilities can’t fight back, and when they get split up from the other ships, they get overrun.  
  
All her ships are _trying._ They’re doing their best to do what she wants. But it’s just like Zarkon’s example, if he asked her father to block an ion cannon. Father would _try,_ but it’s not what he’s good at. He would fail.  
  
Just like she has been.  
  
“Oh,” Allura says slowly. “I didn’t realize. I’m doing it wrong. This is supposed to be like Voltron.”  
  
Zarkon merely nods.  
  
Allura takes a deep breath—and then tries again. This time, she doesn’t try to force all her ships forward right away. She keeps her fighters close to her other ships so they can protect each other, and she uses some of her specialty ships to help with the gravity fields. When she doesn’t try to force her big transport shuttles to move fast, they make good shields for her specialty ships. And with the fighters protecting her specialty ships, she can make those abilities last longer.  
  
She still loses that game. But it takes a lot longer, and she gets a lot closer to defeating the enemy fleet than she had last time.  
  
“That attempt was much better, Princess,” Zarkon says. Allura realizes he’d watched the entire thing from start to finish, rather than going back to his holopad notes. “You asked your units to do what they were designed for. This time, try reserving some of your fighters and one warship to the back ranks. They will exist as backup for when the enemy attempts to flank you.”  
  
Allura nods. That makes sense. The enemy ships had snuck around her own fleet to get at her weak point from behind. Saving some as a backup could help. She tries it again, and this time her reserve warship and its fully charged particle barrier is able to protect her fleet’s flank long enough for it to wipe out the enemy ships and turn around to counterattack.  
  
The bright green VICTORY indicator is almost startling, when it happens. She stares at it for a moment, disbelieving, but then leaps out of her chair and jumps up and down, delighted. “I did it! I won!”  
  
“Very good, Princess,” Zarkon congratulates. “That victory was all yours.” His tone is calm and his expression is even, but Allura thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s also smiling a little.  
  
“You advised me very well, Emperor Zarkon,” Allura says, remembering her manners and offering another proper Altean curtsey. Her tutors really would be proud of her. “Thank you for your assistance. You’re a very good military commander. I’m glad father has someone as good at battles as you keeping him safe.”  
  
Zarkon snorts. “It is nice to see my military prowess being recognized by so esteemed an individual,” he remarks, as he takes a sip of his drink.  
  
Allura suspects he may be joking, but she’s not entirely sure. He says it completely straight-faced. And she doesn’t think she’s ever actually _seen_ him tell a joke before. It’s really hard to tell, with Zarkon.  
  
She is just considering trying the next level with her newfound combat knowledge, when she hears noise outside in the hall. Alarm crosses her face at the exact same moment that the door slides open, and her father, Coran, Blaytz, Trigel, and Gyrgan all enter, along with a few other servants that set a snacks and drinks on the table.  
  
Father catches sight of the game, and then Allura, immediately. “Allura,” he says, with a slight touch of disapproval, “You know you aren’t supposed to be in here. Your tutors have already stopped me in the hall twice to inform me you’ve skipped your lessons...and you’re playing here? I hope you haven’t been bothering Zarkon.”  
  
Allura opens her mouth to protest, or maybe apologize—she’s not sure. Before she can say a word, though, Zarkon speaks up. “It’s all right, Alfor,” he says. “She was no bother. And you needn’t worry about her lessons. The princess has still been learning.”  
  
Alfor raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”  
  
“Look!” Allura says excitedly, pointing to the VICTORY indicator still up on the holographic battle sphere. “I beat this level! It was hard, but I did it!”  
  
“She figured out a Carganax defense formation in a gravity belt, Alfor,” Zarkon adds. “With very little coaching from me.”  
  
Blaytz snickers. “Sounds like she’s already got more combat awareness than her ol’ dad,” he says, grinning. Gyrgan and Trigel both burst into laughter.  
  
“I can handle myself!” Alfor says, scowling at them, but he’s fighting back laughter when he says it. Allura knows he’s not really mad. They’re just all joking around, like they do all the time. She grins along with them.  
  
“Regardless,” Zarkon says, which stills them all immediately, “She does have some aptitude for tactics. Your daughter will be quite a warrior when she grows up. I would hate to be her enemy.”  
  
“Is that so?” father says, as he crouches down to meet her at eye level. His expression is proud, and he ruffles her hair fondly. “It sounds like you did an excellent job. Zarkon _is_ a master tactician, after all. And he doesn’t give compliments lightly.”  
  
Allura beams.  
  
“You’ll need to tell me all about it later,” father says, as he stands again. “But for now, the paladins and I have important business to discuss. Run along for now—and _apologize_ to your tutors!” he adds, gently warning.  
  
Allura scowls at that, but nods. “I will, father. I promise.” She waves hello and goodbye to the other paladins, and then grins and waves at Zarkon. “Thanks for teaching me how to be a military commander!”  
  
Zarkon merely nods to her in return.  
  
“I can’t believe you were teaching the girl military strategy,” Gyrgan says, incredulous, as Allura slips out the door. “She’s barely eight decafeebs—”  
  
“It’s never too early to learn military strategy,” Zarkon counters. Then the door snaps shut behind her.  
  
Allura can’t help but agree with Zarkon, though. She might be little, but she’s not a stupid child. She’s smart. Even Zarkon had said so. And father had been proud of her, too.  
  
And Zarkon...maybe Zarkon’s not so scary as she’d first thought, after all. He _can_ be scary, certainly. And he doesn’t really play or laugh or do anything fun. But he wasn’t so bad teaching her how to beat the game. And he’s strong enough to protect even father, and mother says father can be headstrong and stubborn and reckless in fights. And most importantly, he hadn’t treated Allura like a child. He’d treated her like a _warrior._ She liked that.  
  
Yeah. He was alright, after all. Father had been right all along, to trust him. Allura hums to herself as she skips off down the hallway. She can’t wait to tell mother and father everything she’d learned today.


End file.
